


Take a Look at the Law-Man

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Crossover, Humor, M/M, PG-13 - Blue Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-07
Updated: 2008-04-07
Packaged: 2019-01-20 19:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12439938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: It's alright to see a murder victim once. Normal, even. But when the victim comes to pick up the suspect, then it's time to get a little more suspicious.





	Take a Look at the Law-Man

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Unbetaed. I know this is going to suck, mainly because I'm not used to writing the whole Life on Mars thing, but the plot bunny bit and wouldn't be shaken off, which is kind of distracting when you're trying to revise for GCSE's and so, I wrote it. Also, I know they're all OOC but I have a problem writing people in character. Not sure why, but they always end up completely different. And, I apologise for the sluttiness of my OFC, but there you go...Hope you don't hate it too much.

  
Author's notes: There's some undercover work in a bar, infiltration from Torchwood and Jack gets killed. All in a days work, really. Oh, and some people get shot. Not especially graphic, but it's violence of a sort, so I thought I should warn you.  


* * *

Take a Look at the Law-Man

Out of all the things she had ever done, the one thing she could never get used to was the feeling of metal sliding into flesh. Yes, she'd killed, but it had only ever been _him_ , him who always came back, letting her kiss him just as he was reanimating so she could feel the rush of life reenter his body. But no matter how many times she did it, it was always an odd sensation to feel how easily the blade slid through his skin, almost like he was made of butter or plasticine instead of real human flesh. She let go of the dagger and stood back, watching her friend fall to the ground, knife sticking obscenely from his chest. With a satisfied nod, she wandered down the road towards the payphone. Sliding a few coins into the slot, she lifted the receiver, asking the operator to put her through to Manchester CID. When the woman complied, she straightened, business-like, professional. "Is that Manchester CID?" the person on the other line confirmed that yes, it was the CID. "In that case, I'd like to report a murder. His name is Jack Harkness and he's on Sachmore Road." she replied, tone mechanical as she rattled off the details so carefully researched and rehearsed before she hung up, silencing the police woman's questions. She walked back to the body, squatting down to place a pink perfumed note into the pocket of his greatcoat, like planned. She stared at him for a little while longer before delicately planting a kiss on his forehead. Another hesitation and she stood, exitting the scene, pulling out a mobile as she sent a text.

\--//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\--

DI Sam Tyler was having a bad day. The Guv had been riding him hard, Sam flushed at his brains unfortunate, although accurate, wording, to get the paperwork done for all the "gay-boy science" he'd been having used to help with their recent cases. Now they'd been called in to a case on Sachmore Road, along with complaints from Phyllis that the person who'd called it in had been "acting suspiciously and had a bloody funny accent". Clinging to the handles above the Cortina doors, he glanced at Gene who was staring resolutely at the road. Sam sighed. "What was the victims name?"

 

 

"Jack Harkness." was the sullen response before the car was steeped in silence again, only broken when they screeched to a halt at the scene, both lurching out of the Cortina and stalking to where the body was lying on the ground.

 

 

"What happened?" Sam asked automaticaly, gleaning a disdainful look from Gene.

 

 

"Well, judging from the sodding great knife sticking out of 'is bloody chest, I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and say that 'e was knifed, Tyler." Sam shot the Guv a dirty look, eyes narrowing slightly.

 

 

"Has no one thought to take that out yet?" he asked irritably. As if on cue, the radio back at the Cortina crackled. Sam barely concealed a growl and he turned on his heel, heading back to the car. "What?"

 

 

"Boss? There's some bloke 'ere, askin' 'bout the murder down Sachmore Road." this piqued his interest and he sat up slightly.

 

 

"How the hell does he know about it? The reporters aren't even here yet." there was a pause as the man relayed the information as to his knowledge and then Phyllis was back.

 

 

"'E says 'e's the vic's mate." a scuffle, Phyllis' indignant squawk and then a man's voice takes over the radio.

 

 

"Is the knife still in?" the accent was definately from London. Not as abrasive as the Cockney's could get, but it was still undeniable.

 

 

"How do you know he was stabbed?"

 

 

" _Is it still in_?" the Londoner's voice was slightly more high-pitched and definitely panicked. Sam was opening his mouth to speak when a leather clad hand plucked the radio from his grasp.

 

 

 

"I believe my DI asked yer a question." there was an exasperated growl and the man on the other end sighed.

 

 

 

"He's a friend of mine. He phoned me just before, thought that there was someone following him. Someone had tried to kill him before, using a knife. Stands to reason that they'd use the same method now." Gene seemed satisfied at the explanation.

 

 

 

"It's still in." a relieved sigh made its way over the line now.

 

 

 

"Good. Now, don't remove it." Sam and Gene raised their eyebrows at each other at the odd request.

 

 

 

"Why the 'ell not?"

 

 

 

"Because, my friend has this gas inside him. And the knife is the only thing that will keep it from being released. And this gas, this gas it's poisonous. Kill you if you breath it in, only takes a couple minutes to work through your system and then it's wham, bam, g'night ma'am." Hunt was serious now, amused expression dying as he straightened.

 

 

 

"'Ow did 'e get it in 'im, then?"

 

 

 

"Knowing Jack? Shagged it in." came the nonchalant response. Gene's face contorted with annoyance. The man on the other end seemed to realise this and began placating the bear of a man. "No, really. Jack has this habit of trying to shag anything remotely gorgeous that comes near." Sam earned an amused glance at this.

 

 

 

"Lucky 'e's dead, Gladys. Might've tried goin' for yer. Not sure yer'd 'ave denied 'im, like." Tyler glared and Hunt chuckled before focussing on the voice. "So, 'ow'd we go 'bout movin' 'im then?"

 

 

 

"How should I know? All I know is that he's poisonous. But give it...oooh...48 hours? Maybe? Might've passed through the system. Hang on." a small rustling noise as if the other man had pulled out a piece of paper. Hunt rolled his eyes with impatience and then the voice was back. "I was wrong. Oh, that sounds weird. Not used to saying I'm wrong..."

 

 

 

"Get on with it!"

 

 

 

"Right, yes, sorry. Erm...It's only 30 hours." a mumble that sounds like 'she thinks big of you' and then the man is talking again. "Right, that's me done. Have fun, Detectives."

 

 

 

"'Ang about!" Gene bellowed down the radio.

 

 

 

"Guv? Guv, that bloke. 'E 'ad a bird with 'im." Phyllis' voice travelled over the radio.

 

 

 

"And? So 'e 'ad a skirt, what's the big deal?"

 

 

 

"She was the one 'o rang up 'bout the body."

 

 

 

"'Ow'd you know? There are a fair few birds in Manchester, Phyllis."

 

 

 

"Yeah, but 'ow many Irish lasses come down to Manchester?" Gene's head lifted at that and met Sam's gaze. Dropping the radio, he moved back out of the car and started heading towards the crime scene again, ordering people to back away from the body. Sam watched the spectacle dispassionately, rolling his eyes as he heard the Guv mention 'suspected IRA involvement'. Didn't even know which part of Ireland she was from, let alone whether or not she was a Catholic. But, no, she's Irish so she must be in the IRA.

 

 

 

"Guv." Tyler left the Cortina, slamming the door shut as he made his way over to the tall, broad, blonde man. "Last time I checked, members of the IRA don't tend hang around with random blokes from London. 'Specially, when the bloke could be involved with the government." Hunt glared at his DI before choosing to ignore the smaller mans statement.

 

 

 

"You can search 'im, Gladys. Might give yer a bit of a kick." Sam rolled his eyes but walked towards the body, squatting down next to the handsome man, his eyes wide and staring into the upper distance. Sam shuddered. He always hated it when he saw the eyes, previously full of life, now glassy and unseeing. Silently, he gently closed the eyelids before starting the search, hands delving into the pockets of the large, heavy greatcoat, pulling out a slip of pink, slightly perfumed paper. Standing, Tyler turned his head slightly to gesture Hunt closer, holding the slip aloft.

 

 

 

"He had a girlfriend."

 

 

 

"It could've just been a disguise for a bloke. Maybe that one 'o rang up jus' now." Sam rolled his eyes again. It was a wonder that they hadn't snapped free, the amount of time he spent rolling them now.

 

 

 

"Guv..." he muttered in a low, warning tone. The other man shot him an irritated glare and held out a hand for the little bit of paper, silently ordering his DI to hand it over. His DI complied. Gene opened it up, scanning the writing quickly.

 

 

 

"'S a love note." he said, lifting his head to focus on Sam who simply snorted.

 

 

 

"What, on pink perfumed paper? I'd never've guessed, Guv."

 

 

 

"Alrigh', smartarse. Can yer tell me wha' it says?" Sam glared.

 

 

 

"I'm not a mind reader, Guv."

 

 

 

"I mean', 'ave yer already read it, yer daft bastard." came the surly response.

 

 

 

"Oh. Right. No." Sam held his hand out for the note, silently gesturing for his Guv to pass the paper back. There was an odd look and then he was holding the delicately scented slip of coloured paper again. Reading quickly, his brow furrowed. "Setting up a meet?" he asked, lifting his head slightly to fix the bigger man with a stare as Gene lit a cigarette.

 

 

 

"Well, that'd be why she's written up a time an' date, Tyler. Specifically, todays date and a time later this evenin'." he grunted, gesturing the scrap with his free hand. Sam looked down at it again.

 

 

 

"Shall we set up undercover work then, Guv?" he asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. Then a grin spread across his face. "It's in another pub. All we gotta do is find a," Sam glanced at the paper again, " 'Jess Hyde'." he finished.

 

 

 

"Course we are, daft sod. Might provide vital evidence." Gene replied instantly. Sam struggled to hold his laughter in, rolling his eyes slightly.

 

 

 

"Sorry, Guv. Should've guessed, Guv." he replied earnestly, bowing his head to hide his amused smirk.

\--//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\----//\\\\--

Sam stood behind the bar, eyes wandering around the room slowly, watching the gyrating couples. In particular, a girl who had danced with multiple partners, each time getting dragged away by a tall, wiry bloke with big, brown hair and a rumpled pinstripe suit, who wore an amused expression every time the girl flashed something on her left hand and her partners face clouded with anger, sparking a wide grin in the girls face as they muttered something. Tearing his eyes from yet another spectacle that she had caused on the dancefloor, squashing the irritating sense of familiarity that the pair caused, he searched out Gene, who was currently pulling a pint over the other side of the bar, foot tapping along to "Get It On" that was currently thrumming through the clubs smoky haze. Wandering over, he tapped the larger man's arm, grabbing his attention. "Whaddya want, Tyler?" he grunted.

 

 

 

"Seen anything unusual?" this earned him a disparaging look.

 

 

 

"We've barely been 'ere an 'our, Tyler. Give us a bit o' time, firs'." then the disparaging look turned into one of interest. "Why, 'ave you?" Sam snorted and shrugged.

 

 

 

"Unless you count a girl dancing with just about every bloke here then getting dragged away by some wiry bloke with big hair before anything can happen as 'interesting', then no." he replied slowly, glancing over to the table that the couple retreated to. Gene raised an eyebrow at Sam.

 

 

 

"Think she's a prozzie?" the DI pursed his lips, mulling it over.

 

 

 

"No, prozzie's wouldn't get pulled away. Think she's just easy but has a boyfriend." he finally answered, folding his arms.

 

 

 

"Right, well sod off then, yer scarin' off the punters." Gene ended the conversation, pushing the shorter man back towards the other end of the bar, just as the dark haired dancing girl came over, a bright grin on her face.

 

 

 

"Hey." she greeted him, leaning on the wooden bench surrounding the bar area. "Can I have a Guiness and a banana daquiri?" she asked. Sam raised an eyebrow slightly at the odd request but nodded.

 

 

 

"So, are you from Ireland?" he asked, acknowledging the accent.

 

 

 

"No, I'm not. I just decided to pick up the accent for fun. 'Cause 1973 is the *best* year for being Irish in Manchester." she replied sarcastically.

 

 

 

"Just trying to make conversation." he muttered quietly. The girl's face cracked into a small smile.

 

 

 

"I know, Detective Inspector. But, I haven't had my Guiness yet, so..." she shrugged slightly, by way of apology. Sam looked at her, slightly confused.

 

 

 

"I thought you were the banana daquiri."

 

 

 

"No. That's my husband's drink." she pointed back to where the bloke who'd pulled her back from all the other men was sat and he waved in their direction. "Well, this one's." she added cryptically. "But, this one, if he doesn't have 18 bloody banana's a day, he starts whining. It's like he's addicted to the potassium or something. Or maybe he just likes the shape of the damn things." she grinned, chuckling softly. "Like he needs any more phallic symbols in his life." the girl picked up the two drinks that Sam had placed on the bar with another smile. "See you round." Sam nodded, watching her walk back to her table with a confused frown on his face, mulling over the conversation. That was when something she'd said clicked into his brain and his eyes widened. How the bloody hell had she known he was a copper? Her head turned to look at Sam over her shoulder and she shot him a broad grin before sliding into the booth in a corner, just on the last outskirts of the smoke, passing the smaller drink onto her partner.

 

 

 

"Find ou' anythin' useful?" Sam jumped at Gene's gruff voice in his ear, turning slightly to eye his superior warily.

 

 

 

"Just that the girl is married. Oh, and she knows that I'm a DI." he adds this last part absently, staring out at the girl with a thoughtful expression. So, when Gene's fist lightly drives into his kidneys, he's caught unawares. "Christ! What the fuck was that for?" he asks, gasping as he doubles up a little, leaning onto the bar.

 

 

 

"Is that really suitable behaviour for a club? Well, a normal mans-man club. A gay bar, sure, I'd see why, but this isn't. Or is it? I don't know, Jess never tells me. Actually, given all the bloke's drooling over her, I doubt it's a gay bar. But, you never know. She appeals to all sorts. Anyway...what was it...oh, yeah. Drink." Sam looked up at the babbling voice, staring at the big-haired man who'd been with the Irish woman.

 

 

 

"Sorry, what was it you wanted?" the man looked confused and lifted the glass that had held the daquiri.

 

 

 

"Another drink. Didn't I mention it? Sure I did..." he trailed off, frowning as he tried to remember his previous comment. "Yeah, I definitely did."

 

 

 

"You're the bloke 'o was on the radio." Gene butt in, staring. The man looked confused which, Sam had to admit, made him look even more adorable than he had before. Sort of like a lost puppy.

 

 

 

"Sorry, what are you talking about?" the crisp London accent said slowly, frowning. "Look, can I have a whisky?" this was directed to Sam who smiled slightly.

 

 

 

"Sure. I thought you were a daquiri man?" as Sam said this, he shot a look at Gene, warning him to stay quiet.

 

 

 

"I decided on something stronger. Well, with spouses like mine, you need it." he gestured the drink that Sam had begun to pour out with a crooked smile. "Plus, I like the variety." he added, glancing around.

 

 

 

"Nothing wrong with that, I suppose." the man turned his head back to look at Sam, grinning.

 

 

 

"Except it's unadvisable to go for some kinds of variety in the seventies. Even the eighties. Sometimes, even the nineties." his eyes glaze over as he stares into the middle distance, mulling it over. "51st Century is much more free and easy." a snort. "Definitely easy, if Jack's anything to go by." and then he's focussed again, staring at the two men behind the bar with a confused look on his face. "What? Why're you looking at me like that? Have I got something on my face?" his hands lift to wipe over his face, making sure.

 

 

 

"Are you a nutter?" Gene asks and Sam drops his head, making a mental note to remind his Guv about the 'softly softly' approach. Big-hair grins.

 

 

 

"I might be, or I could just see into the future, or maybe, I have a time machine." the grin is back in full force, giving him a slightly manic air.

 

 

 

"Sorry, what was your name?" the grin widens and he bobs his head up and down.

 

 

"That's a good question. With so many possible answers. But, for the moment, your answer is Smith. John Smith. Doctor John Smith. But, most people just call me 'The Doctor'." Sam opens his mouth to introduce himself but 'The Doctor' beats him to the punch. "I know who you are. Sam Tyler. DCI -- no, it's DI at the moment, isn't it? DI Sam Tyler. And you're DCI Gene Hunt." Hunt looks shocked, glancing around to make sure no one heard.

 

 

 

"'Ow the bloody 'ell'd yer know that?" he hissed angrily. The Doctor merely grinned enigmatically, took his whisky and slapped a few coins on the counter before turning and wandering off again, bouncing slightly with barely restrained energy. Sam turned to look at Gene who was glaring after the Doctor furiously, the annoyance pouring off him in waves.

 

 

 

"Gene, you might want to calm down there." he muttered quietly, taking a hold of the larger mans arm, keeping him from sailing over the bar and sinking his fist into someone's face again.

 

 

 

"'Ow'd 'e know we're coppers?" Hunt hissed, moving the glare onto his DI. The DI in question shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at the couple who were getting up to dance now the song had changed to "Starman", inadvisably leaving their drinks on their table, both laughing their heads off at something.

 

 

 

"I don't know. Probably the same way that she knew I'm a DI." he replied, frowning slightly. Removing his hand from his DCI, Sam turned and looked at the girl properly, watching the pair. "Hang on. The bloke. . . he thought I was a DCI at first." Sam's lips pursed, staring some more. "Christ, Guv. I know who the girl is. I arrested her, back in, " a barely concealed roll of the eyes. "back in *Hyde*." he completed, shaking his head. "She was caught shoplifting and did a couple of banks with a firearm." his head cocked to one side. "She didn't even wear a mask to pull it off. Just wandered in, waved the gun and got the money. But, the workers couldn't remember her or her voice clearly. We had to use fingerprints to find her. It turned out she had priors for smashing in a car." a dry chuckle. "Apparently her and her mother didn't get along. Anyway, and then the bloke, he's the one who came to bail her out. The evidence disappeared when she was in custody, so we couldn't hold her. She wouldn't give us her name though, but I'm *betting* it's Jessica Hyde." at that moment, the bar fell silent, music abruptly shutting off and patrons ceasing conversation in favour of turning towards the door where two men and a woman had entered and were holding guns, blocking the only exit.

 

 

 

"Everybody stay calm and nobody move! This is Torchwood business. If you all cooperate then no one will be hurt." the woman said in a loud voice that carried across the room. Slowly, they moved further in before 6 shots rang out, causing screams and a bustle of movement and then the dark haired woman was on top of the bar, glancing down at Sam with a quick wink before she looked to the trio from 'Torchwood' and Sam noticed a flash of brown as the Doctor slipped through the door down towards the basement.

 

 

 

"Now, I wonder, what would this 'Torchwood' business *be*? It couldn't possibly be looking for li'l ol' me, could it?" she asked with mock fear, smirking at them, dragging all attention back towards her. The larger man with greasy black hair and piggy little eyes scowled.

 

 

 

"We've 'eard 'bout you. Say you've gorra bigger ego 'n tha' one from Torchwood Three." except the "three" came out "free". The female on top of the bar smiled beatifically.

 

 

 

"Now, is it *really* the time to be complimenting me, fatso?" she asked sweetly. The man had to be held back by both of his colleagues to stop him from running at her. "Ah, ah. No charging like a rampaging rhino. Even if you do feel like you have to shout it from the rooftops that you are, in fact, a rhino so severly deformed that you look and sound human, I thought you had a *job* to do."

 

 

 

"Miss Hyde!" the shorter man scolded, glowering over his shoulder. "Or is it Miss Jackman at the moment?"

 

 

 

"Oh, you lot at Torchwood. No sense of humour. And it's Hyde. Rebecca isn't due for another couple of hours." Miss Hyde sighed, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, what was it you bunch of jumped up xenophiles wanted, anyway?" she asked, leaning against one of the bars supports that travelled up to the ceiling.

 

 

 

"We heard that the Doctor was here in Manchester. Further investigation found that he was here in this bar." Hyde scoffed.

 

 

 

"What's the Doctor going to be doing *here*?"

 

 

 

"Then how do you explain *your* appearance here, Miss Hyde?" the girl stiffened, staring down at them.

 

 

 

"I'm with the one from Torchwood Three, Torchwood's little Golden Boy. Well, he will be. It's not the same one you know. Different bloke from Torchwood Three. But, anyway, I haven't seen the Doctor in months." she replied icily, glaring.

 

 

 

"That's rather careless of you, isn't it, losing your husband. Not at all like you, Miss Hyde. So, forgive us if we don't believe you, but we're going to take you for questioning, if you'd like to come with us." the trio turned to leave, not seeing the Irishwoman pull out a gun and raise it upwards to point steadily at them.

 

 

 

"I bet you're all wondering, 'how many shots exactly did she fire back then when we first arrived?' Well, in all the confusion of half the bar trying to escape in between shitting themselves, mentally shagging these two delectable blokes behind the bar," she turned her head and grinned at Gene and Sam before continuing, "and this *delightful* conversation, I've forgotten myself."

 

 

 

"You fired six, Miss Hyde." the woman replied, exasperation piercing through her forced patience. Hyde squeezed the trigger another three times, hitting all three of them in the centre of their foreheads.

 

 

 

"Yes, but I fucking *reloaded*!" she yelled at their bodies, dropping the gun on the bar. Gingerly climbing back onto the ground, she chuckled. "Always a reason for watching Rik and Ade." she muttered as a horrible wheezing started up, a blue box slowly pulsing in and of visibility before there was a soft 'thud' and it stood, fully opaque. With a squeak, one of the doors of the large police box opened and the Doctor's head peeked out. "That's my cue to leave. See you both later, Detectives." Hyde said brightly before disappearing into the box, the door closing as the wheezing started again and the box disappeared. Gene cleared his throat.

 

 

 

"Did I jus' see wha' I think I saw, Tyler?"

 

 

 

"I think so, Guv." Sam replied, still staring at the place where the box had been mere seconds before.

 

 

 

"She jus' killed three people 'nd we didn' do anythin'!" Gene exclaimed angrily. Sam turned around and stared incredulously at his boss before giving up and rolling his eyes instead.

 

 

 

**End of Chapter One**


End file.
